Intrusion
by Chilly Academic IV
Summary: He's always an unwelcome visitor. Marluxia x Vexen, noncon


**Intrusion**  
_a kingdom hearts yaoi fanficton ft. marluxia x vexen  
_Warnings: Yaoi, rape, and vines. Myep. Take that as you will.  
disclaimer: i do not own vexen, marluxia, or kingdom hearts. this is a work of fanfiction that is not to reproduces without my permission on any website other than and/or my deviantArt. thank you.

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Sometimes, those damned portals were just as inconvenient as they were convenient.

A broom finally herded the last of the pink petals from the Graceful Assassin's prior uninvited visit out the front of the laboratory door, and from there where they would go, the academic blonde did not know or care. Usually if something was left outside overnight, it was gone the next morning. Be it cookies or toxic waste. He didn't really know, though his curious inner scientist insisted he set surveillance up one night to figure it out. But a queasy part of him thought that it would likely be better, and easier, on his mind not to know what became of his laboratory castoffs.  
The broom found its place, leaned up in a corner of the lab, where it would be unbothered until a beaker broke, powder or crystals spilled, or the eleventh member of the organization decided to pay another unwelcome visit. Personally, the scientist preferred to work in solitude, and not have to deal with anyone lurking about behind his back, questioning his research and breaking, spilling, and generally mucking up his organized chaos of a laboratory.  
Finally, peace and cleanliness where the male would be quite able to work on his experiments.  
That is, until the sound of boots behind him made him release the deep inhale of relief he had taken between clenched teeth. The voice that made it to his ears reaffirmed his suspicions of who this unexpected guest was.  
"Vexen."  
Oh, he did hate when than self-righteous neophyte called him by his name. It was simply infuriating, and he often refused to respond to it. Which he did now, shaking his head and moving across the room to his table, where his notes were haphazardly spread out over the metal surface, inkless pens and broken pencils lying carelessly about as well. Organized chaos, he called it, to rationalize this mess.  
"Number IV."  
_Don't turn, don't reinforce it._  
Of course, he didn't. Raising a test tube of some greenish crystal dissolving in an azure liquid to eyelevel, he made quite a show of examining that and ignoring the lurker behind him, until he was sure that this concept of ignoring something-in this case, someone-until they went away displayed a significant flaw in logic. And anyone who knew anything at all about this specific academic knew that if it was illogical, it was practically inconceivable behavior for him.  
"Yes, Number XI?"  
He grinned. He could practically feel those blue eyes of the rosy haired flower-lover narrowing as he addressed him by rank. If he had emotions, why, he would say that he did quite enjoy any annoyance he could cause to the Lord of Castle Oblivion. And he'd be damned if on some days, the Assassin didn't feel the same.  
"I assume your main project is coming along well?"  
The sensation of glass sliding between his gloved fingers was what kept the tube from crashing to the sterile, linoleum floors a his feet, knowing there was a pretty high possibility that his boots and possibly feet would be make quick work of should this exothermic liquid make its way onto them. He hated, oh how he hated, when the neophytes tried to weasel information out of him about what he had worked on, was working on, or was expected to work on. And even though, for some reason, his rank was high above that of this particularly infuriating member, he was still expected, by orders of Superior, to report to him under some circumstances.  
This, however, was not one; an order direct from Xemnas himself was not necessarily required to be updated to the assassin. And any chance to rub that in his face had to be seized by the academic.  
"The progress of my current undertaking is no business of yours, XI," he stated coldly, the test tube finding its place to a wooden rack next to two or three empty ones, and one with a strange crimson crystal floating about in a translucent white liquid. Of course, even thought nothing else was in dire need of tending, he saw it fit to take a wooden stirring stick to twirl about the translucent liquid in the tube. It really had no effect, and was more of a play at the "maybe if I look busy, he'll go away" attempt.  
This, of course, was shot down.  
"It seems to slip your mind, Vexen-" Chills down his spine. He gritted his teeth, trying not to snap the twig like stick between his fingers, "-that it is my business to know, as I have Superior's orders to maintain this castle and its goings on."  
Ouch! Alright, maybe he'd clamped down a little bit too readily on his tongue at that comment, to keep from spewing something he'd regret later, be it through the Superior's punishment, or the Assassin's own, Vexen was not particularly curious to experience either at this point in his existence.  
"That's true, XI, however," he exhaled heavily at this pause, finally turning to face him. Circles under his eyes and a haggard look on his face revealed, clearly, that he'd been a lab rat quite avidly as of late, sacrificing sleep and the occasional meal due to being so wound up in his research, "you and I are both well aware that when orders are handed down directly to me via Xemnas himself, that I am not required to relay this information to any middle-man."  
The middle man here being the pink haired gardener.  
Oh, Gods, that look on that man's face was priceless right now. The smug expression across his own face probably didn't help that almost doe-in-the-headlights-esque wideness to his eyes, rendering him, the neophyte that never shuts up, without words. Finally he'd shut him up, let this be a day that would go down in history.  
But… why was he suddenly back against a wall and not able to move and why were his hands going numb?  
This was not good. Nor was that hiss in the voice of the eleventh member's voice as he crept nearer and, as a matter of fact, this entire situation had taken a direct one-hundred and eighty degree turn towards the worst. And, as the scientist discovered that it was infernal vines from nowhere that were restraining him, he knew that even if he tried to freeze them, it would do no good. They'd gone through this scenario before, and one too many times for Vexen's own liking.  
"Superior gave me orders to keep tabs on all of your projects, and you know that. However, you still try to go by the former rule-if he told me to do it, I don't have to tell you. This willful ignorance on your part is simply infuriating and I must say that I've had my last of it."  
The voice was a positive growl now, and he could feel the breath, melting the cold in his treasured icy laboratory. Leather-covered fingers coiling around his neck were also doing nothing to appease this, either. Oh, of course he knew this man could get away with murder and just blame it on insubordination and probably get little more than a slap on the wrist, and that was possibly frightening.  
Why this was a positive rush of heat through his cold body was beyond him.  
It was natural that he wanted to reply, of course, but the sudden haze to his usually intellectual mind, and the depreciation of the oxygen in his body due to the tight hand around his neck, was making this concept excessively, needlessly difficult. All he managed was a faint gasp, and attempt at breath. His fingers coiled into fists, a tight grip that he would have liked to have focused towards removing that debilitating hand from his throat to catch a decent breath, a tight grip that would probably be quite pleased to return the motion if he ever got loose.  
But then, a chuckle. It was rather known that the gardener was a sadist in his free time, and seemed to take a strange pleasure in putting other through pain for no real reason other than the fact he could get away with it. He assumed that was the entire cause of that soft, maddening laughter, until he felt a squeeze on his lower regions.  
What the hell did this man think he was doing and why the hell was his hand there?  
"My, Vexen. I never took you to be a masochist."  
But he wasn't a masochist. There was no way in hell he was enjoying this, at all. No. And he was most certainly not getting at all aroused, no matter what that annoying bulge in his pants would try to communicate against his will.  
The hot breath spilled down his neck now, and it only made his shiver. To his relief, though, he found the grip on his neck loosened ever so slightly, and exactly what that gasp confirmed in the mind of the pink haired male who had him pinned, he didn't know, because that second chuckle that slid between his lips was considerably more sinister.  
"Marluxia!"  
Oh, damnit. He hadn't meant to say the bastard's name, but that seemed to only make him all the more willing to do numerous things, though only one specifically ran through Vexen's mine, and, well., he was not in any way font of the idea.  
"Yes, Vexen?"  
"Let me go, now. I order you."  
Relief washed over him as Marluxia moved away, but that fact that he soon felt the delicate vines undoing the button of his black leather pants, worrying him to a higher level.  
"_Stop_, now!"  
The bastard was lounging in his chair, now, the plush black chair he kept at his note-taking desk, his elbows on his knees and his dark fingers laced, his chin resting on the bridge created by those laced digits, watching intently. It infuriated him, but… something within him stirred, a strange, sickening feeling.  
Oh, gods. He was getting turned on, damnit! He was trying to think anything to make it stop, but as the vines began to slide the garments down from his hips, and a cold rush of air on the undeniably stiff part of his male anatomy, he couldn't help but let a moan escape. He down turned his vision to keep from seeing that overly smug look on the neophyte's face. It sickened him. This entire situation sickened him, and the fact that he was getting turned on by it was all the more sickening. And shameful.  
"Why should I, Vexen?" The pretentious air about his being easily communicated by his voice, there was really no need to raise his head to look at the male to know what his expression was. Honestly, the scientist was unsure if he'd ever felt as completely violated as he did now, and a little voice in the back of his head only told him that it was all downhill from here.  
And to be quite honest, a reply to this comment would be null and void anyway, so he didn't even bother to waste his breath, only exhaling heavily as he felt the delicate plant life twining about his erect member. It took every ounce of strength and self control that rested within him to keep from trembling and groaning at the sensation. Yes, it was wrong, and more or less rape, but what ,exactly, could he do? Freezing the vines never worked, and pleading with the pink-haired sadist would be even less efficient than freezing the greenery about his body. Quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place, and damnit all if he'd give Marluxia the submission he wanted. Fruitless, yes, his struggles, but still communicating a point.  
And the bastard had the audacity to laugh at his struggles against the thick plants that pulsed around him. Oh, it was so hard to articulate how my despised this situation.  
A slick vine creepy up the back of his bare leg, and immediately tensed. He wouldn't dare; no, there was no way the neophyte had the audacity…  
The sensation of the slick, rounded tip of the new enemy against his clenched entrances made him bite down on his bottom lip. Every muscle around that area was tensed to the max; this would not happen. There was no way in hell he would allow this to happen, no matter what he had to do to fight it.  
It seemed, however, the strength of that vine was strong that the muscles of his entrance. A weak, pained cry came from within him, his back arching, panting for breath. It _hurt_. The fact that the pink haired gardener was probably watching him with that smirking grin on his lips didn't help matters, but had been shoved to the backburner due to the sudden jolt of flaming pain that shocked his nerves. His nails were biting at the material of his leather gloves, almost so to produce holes in them. This ache, this pain, and the fact that part of him was enjoying it… Nothing, nothing at all was in the favor of the poor scientist at the moment.  
"Just relax and enjoy it, Vexen. You're making it harder on yourself."  
"S-Shut… up…"  
He didn't think ever in his life—either one—he'd found it this hard to articulate a thought. In fact, it was damned near impossible to keep coherent thought as the pain seemed to dull at the exact moment that the nimble vine within him found a certain spot that sent waves of pleasure over his body. It felt amazing, maddening, sinfully sweet. Still, he was futilely pulling at the fines, more so wanting to readjust due to the fact his hands were very close to utter numbness. Fighting this, as it was, was useless, these sensations that were an entirely new feeling—the smoothed friction of the vine moving into and out of him, the delicate vines caressing his manhood languidly.  
This internal heat was melting his icy demeanor. But though his body enjoyed it, his mind rebelled against it. He would not submit completely, not enjoy it.  
If he had an emotion within him now, It would be hate, nothing but hate for Marluxia as he observed this grotesque scene that played out before him, the bondage and defiling of the blonde scientist, the disgust that he felt… He hated it. All of this.  
This heat, this lingering pain, but the hints of pleasure.  
All of it contradicted, and he hated it. It was sickening.  
Then a pressure in his lower body, a tightening feeling. All through his body, his muscles, a strange pain and waves of pleasure. Control was finally lost, his body arching backwards, an audible moan, and a strangled cry, finally too much for his body to take, orgasm taking over the blur of his mind as his seed spilled onto the floor. And then, any strength in his body, anything he felt, was gone, limp, merely suspended by the vine as though he were a puppet on strings.  
The vines receded now, and he would have fallen had the Assassin now rose from his seat to catch him, the weakened scientist falling against him. And the scientist was damned if he cared. Hitting the floor would have been preferable, but he didn't care anymore. What else could the male do to him to shame him further, what other torture could there be that was worse than this?  
"Poor Number IV…" The cooing caress in that voice made bile rise in the scientist's throat, but he would not look at him. No, he would not let his clouded green eyes contact those sky blue orbs. His defenses down, the icy walls about him shattered.  
"Go."  
Though Vexen knew full wel he was in no position to deliver orders to the lower-ranked male, that had never stopped him before. Though, the tightening of the gloved hands on his leather coat soon conveyed that he'd made another mistake. But the one ease within the academic's mind was that at least there was only a fraction of possibility that things could be worsened.  
The support of the other man's body was soon gone, the blonde startled by this and finding himself on the floor. A gloved hand tilted his chin, and he was soon forced into gazing at the figure of the now seated male, the harsh smile down on him automatically revealing that another fatal err had been made by the fourth member of the Organization. A hand fisted in his already messied blonde locks only intensified this fear like sensation.  
Of course the assassin had found that fraction and invaded it fully.  
"You're just digging your hole deeper, Vexen. I thought you were an academic? Or perhaps your misanthropic behavior has reduced your ability to have foresight into the actions of other, hm?"  
The academic had tightly closed his eyes, not looking at the male, wanting to pull away if it was at all possible, but for some reason he felt drained, and immobilized and unable to fight back. And another vocalization from the pink haired figure before him made him realize exactly how deep this hole he'd wriggled himself into was.  
"There are better uses for that mouth of yours than your smart comments, you know."  
He didn't know when the male had received the opportunity to release his own erection from the tight leather confines of his own pants, but he was aware that it had happened when he felt his lips were forced down around it, a forceful shove almost choking him. A brief rush of strength emitted from him as his gloved handsattempted to press away, using the bottom cushion of his chair, taken over by the neophyte, as leverage. The strong hands laced into his hair prevented this, however, and all he could really do was finish what the assassin had forced him to start, sliding his lips along the hard flesh, more or less forced by the black gloved hands of the figure who had him in a net. Of course, he had the option to bite or otherwise hurt the one who had him captive, but something told him that would only increase his punishment tenfold. If not more. Stupid pompous bastard…  
"Look at you… Number IV…" his voice wasn't even the least bit strained, only a little more breathless than normal, only infuriating the male who'd been forced into this disgusting act further,. "…on your knees before me. I could… get used to this."  
The moments dragged on in the mind of the academic, until he felt the grip of the pink haired figure tighten, warning of approaching climax. An attempt to pull away was, of course, stopped dead in its tracks, the bitter, salty substance filling his mouth.  
The grip on his hair was released the male stood, clothing himself idly. The forehead of the blonde hit the cushion of chair as soon as the support was gone, and he made no sound. He heard the footsteps was Marluxia prepared for his departure.  
"Maybe you learned your lesson, Vexen," he stated. The downtrodden scientist knew he looked at him, but would not return the graces. "Learn your true rank."  
And then he was alone.  
Bare knees were pulled toward his chest, his arms encircling his torso as he trembled. He'd been defiled and abused, and there was no chance of getting retribution, punishment never being dealt out to the rosy-haired assassin.  
He felt a tear roll down his face. Trembling. Shaking.  
Crying silently in he privacy of his own lab.  
"… I'd rather… he killed me…"

_fin_

A/N: I've not finished a fanfic in forever. Yeah, it's a little on the short side, but there's smut. Enjoy, review. All that.


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